


Unfair Match

by reserve



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Adam Driver Ruined My Life, Hux is Doomed, M/M, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 07:33:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6414631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/pseuds/reserve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sparring demonstration aboard the Finalizer has an unexpected effect on General Hux.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfair Match

**Author's Note:**

> This a collaborative piece written with [hicstreme0](http://hicstreme0.tumblr.com/). Stay tuned for illustrations! 
> 
> So uh, y'all saw [those gifs of Adam Driver](http://reserve.tumblr.com/post/141981180935/hardyness-adam-drivers-training-for-his-kylo) in the snowy woods twirling and looking like a Goddamn life ruiner in suspenders. Y'all know what's up.

The mood is light in the Finalizer's gymnasium, and a cadre of officers have gathered together in a neat little throng. The intrepid among them have even brought along refreshments, as though attending a genteel evening soiree. General Hux, pressed to the front of the crowd by nature of his rank and no desire of his own, doesn’t have a drink in hand; instead, his arms are crossed waspishly over his chest in a display his father would have surely found unsuitably casual, but one that suits Hux just fine, because this little _morale exercise_ is a waste of his time.

Anything involving Kylo Ren is a waste of his time.

On his left, in her workout gear, Phasma elbows him gamely in the side. She’s smiling broadly enough that all of her white teeth are visible, clearly enjoying herself, and likely to have a go against whomever is willing once the demonstration is over. Kylo Ren, typically, has yet to make an appearance, even though he was the one to awkwardly, and _loudly_ , suggest this idiotic time sink at their last command briefing. Normally, Hux might be proud to show off his stormtroopers, but this just feels like _spectacle_. And not spectacle of his choosing.

The idle chatter around him goes on as pairs of stormtroopers, using various implements, face one another in the center of the mat set up for this purpose. Hux tries not to yawn. Phasma has been cheering on her troopers with gusto since things really got going, and although Hux could probably muster up some measure of enthusiasm he mostly finds himself longing for a glass of Endorian wine and the comfortable chair at his desk. He'd like to take off his boots. There’s work to be done. This isn’t…work.

He’s blandly inspecting his nails and thinking about blueprints when a hush falls over the assembled crowd, and on his right, Major Banks downs the whole of her cocktail in one go as though she needs the extra courage to keep watching. Hux looks up.

Of course. Kylo Ren, sans helmet

Hux knows what Ren looks like; has known since they were introduced in what felt like an awkward matchmaking session with Leader Snoke…and yet, he always seems to forget how soft Ren’s mouth appears, and the aimless set of dark moles across his cheeks and forehead. He always manages to forget Ren’s patrician nose, and his high cheekbones. And he always, _always_ forgets Ren’s hair. Today it's done up in braids, braids that should look altogether foolish and are certainly non-regulation, and also meant solely for schoolchildren. But here stands Lord Ren, in tight, potentially leather pants, and a loose fitting tank outfitted with suspenders of all things. All of his clothing is black, a stark contrast to his pale skin, just like the hair that licks against his jawline. And he doesn’t look foolish at all.

Hux begins to sweat before Ren even starts moving. He bows gallantly to the crowd like the attention seeking brat he is, and Hux’s collar feels too tight when he notices a tender looking purple-blue bruise on Ren's bicep. Then Ren calls forth a fully uniformed stormtrooper from the ranks waiting to spar. Only with sparring sticks, Hux notes, distantly glad before he’s captivated once more and hating every second of it.

Ren parries, he turns gracefully, arms held in perfect form, muscles displayed grandly, and twirls his stick in an elaborate figure eight before lunging forward. He is relentless.

Someone behind Hux gasps as the stormtooper being challenged loses his footing. Hux feels quite suddenly grateful not to have a drink with him, for he surely would have crushed it in his fist by now, with the way his body has clenched up entirely, a barrier to the familiar feeling of lust attempting to overtake him. It’s a good thing, he thinks rather helplessly, that Ren is otherwise occupied, otherwise he might notice. Otherwise he might use his _grubby_  sorcery to bend Hux’s very normal reaction to a person in very little clothing moving with vicious elegance, in his favor. And where would that leave Hux?

The action breaks for a moment so that Ren can gulp down some water, dribbling it over his chin, before he summons the next two troopers he intends to take down. And just as Hux is awkwardly shifting on the balls of his feet, one shoulder lifting up crookedly in an attempt adjust himself without adjusting himself, and conceal the very beginning of a woefully ill-timed erection, Ren turns and looks directly at him. His chin is still wet looking.

And he knows. Hux _knows_ he knows.

Ren’s dark, full eyebrows pull into an amused arc, and Hux feels his entire face flush with color: an unstoppable blush that goes all the way down his neck. Ren smirks, and turns back to the task at hand, but Hux could swear, on his dear mother’s life, that he can hear Ren laughing softly at him in his own head. He swallows back a curse and refocuses on the match, wills away his feelings with well-practiced, punishing repression, and does not flinch.

It almost works out. Soon Ren’s show is over, and Phasma has replaced him. Only then does Hux allow himself the deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His shoulders unknot. His palms are still damp. He inhales again and his nostrils fill with the scent of sweat, and the vague smell of burning herbs, which is exactly when Ren walks past him, a towel slung over his shoulder. He’s so close that Hux can feel the heat coming off of him, so close they almost brush against each other. Hux can almost _feel_ the way Ren’s gaze sweeps over his treacherous body, a new wave of arousal crashing through him. 

Kylo Ren looks at him, and Hux is overtaken with an oppressive mental image of Ren on top of him, _inside_ him: equally sweaty, his hands wrapped around Hux's waist as he presses in close. The same arresting scent envelopes him, and Ren wears the same sly look on his awful face as Hux falls apart beneath him. It feels like a premonition.

Hux knows he's doomed.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow us on tumblr: [hicstreme0](http://hicstreme0.tumblr.com/), [reserve](http://reserve.tumblr.com/)


End file.
